get a head start, a little sip of something
by patientalien
Summary: Snapshot of a Mental Health Crisis #1 Subtitle: Thor, Korg, and Miek order a pizza ENDGAME SPOILERS


Shift. Roll over. Curl up. Straighten out. Roll over. Pull one leg up as tight as it will go. Straighten out. Roll over. Reach down over the side of the bed for the half-empty can of ale he knows is there. Drink. Gag. Drink. Wait until the nausea fades. Sit up - slowly. Stand - slower. Start the day.

The sunlight streaming through the windows makes Thor squint and put a hand up to block it as he shuffles his way out of his bedroom. "Fah, these fuckin' curtains suck," he calls out to his, for lack of a better term, housemates. Fumbling around on the table he comes up with a pair of sunglasses, pushing them onto his face with relief. Okay, one problem taken care of, now for the next one. A new can of lager stops his hands from shaking too badly, not that it matters. His hands had been perfectly steady when he'd - when he had done _that_. That _thing_ he had done. A second lager wipes the thought away.

It's early afternoon, which means Korg and Miek will be starting their daily warrior game battle with that chickenshit n00bmaster69 on the video game system soon, and the cable is _still_ out, so he doesn't have much to do at the moment. He occupies himself with a bag of potato chips and another lager. "Let me know if that weasel gives you any trouble," he tells Korg solemnly.

"Sure thing, bro," Korg replies brightly and it's like fucking knives on a chalkboard because he really doesn't feel like being around something so disgustingly chipper. Now he thinks he knows how Loki must have felt all those years. Loki. Loki. Loki. Loki. Loki. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Loki is dead Loki is dead Loki is dead because of him because he was weak because he failed. Failure, Odinson. Failure. And Loki is dead and Frigga is dead and Odin is dead and Volstagg is dead and - "You wanna order a pizza?" Korg asks.

"Hell yeah let's order a pizza!" he exclaims, raising his new lager in a toast. Because everything is so wonderful and idyllic here in New Asgard - in _his kingdom_ of New Asgard (because Old Asgard burned and burned and burned), that they just got a pizza place. They already know Thor's order by heart, and they let him pay on credit, which is nicer, since Valkyrie decided he couldn't be trusted with the kingdom's coffers. Which is ridiculous, by the way. He was _only_ using _some_ of the funds to make sure New Asgard was properly provisioned with the proper provisions of things like alcohol, which he enjoys very much and if a king is happy, he can better keep his people happy. Well, apparently, some people took _offense_ to that, so now he has to buy on credit. Which is fine, because both the brewery and the pizza place accept their king's word as currency.

He calls in the order ("Yeah, it's Thor again, yeah, same as yesterday, cheers mate!") and tries to decide if it's worth the effort of taking a shower before it arrives. It means he has a finite amount of time to undress, to hate himself, to wash, to dry, to dress again, and even if he doesn't bother to wash his hair it still seems like an insurmountable goal to accomplish within the allotted 30-45 minutes. Maybe later. Yeah, later sounds good. It's only been three days, and these pants don't actually have any stains on them, so he can probably get at least another day or two of wear out of them. Which is good, because they're comfortable, and they don't bind around the stomach like a lot of his other pants do now. And going down to the laundry presents its own obstacles, so that's probably going to wait another day or so too. How about this, he'll shower and do laundry both on the same day. Perfect. Doesn't matter what day it is, just not today, which is what he'd told himself yesterday, but he definitely will follow through on it tomorrow. Thor settles back with his chips and lager and watches Korg and Miek log into their game.

He's not really paying attention to them, though, because he's seeing if he can break his previous record of ten lagers before breakfast. On Asgard, his parents would have been appalled, but his parents are dead and Asgard is gone and in the words of his also-dead brother, Thor can do what he wants. It's not like he has anything to worry about anymore, nothing he has to be prepared for, nothing he has to accomplish. It's not as though he has to go fight Than...

"Thor? Bro? You alright?" Korg sounds very far away and Thor realizes that he smells pizza. And that he'd blacked out. Well, judging by what he remembers of what he was thinking before the big blank spot, it's probably for the better. See, he knows what he's doing. "Wakey-wakey!" He feels a finger prod against his arm.

"Mmfff," Thor replies, wiping the little string of saliva that must have collected while he'd forgotten to swallow it. "Pizza here?" he manages, and his voice sounds thick like it's underwater. That's funny, and he smiles, because for the first time all day, he feels _good._


End file.
